Where Will Wants Not
by Siofra1
Summary: *Chapter Two Up* RotK spoilers... Merry and Eowyn's ride into battle, as well as their time in the House of Healing... yes, it's been done before. Read and review anyway. *grins*
1. Dernhelm

Author's Note: Yes, my friends, it is *drumroll* yet another Merry and Eowyn before and after the House of Healing story! *fanfare* Heh. Yeah, it's been done. But it's so much fun. Besides, Merry is my favorite character, so I felt I owed it to him. You know the drill: Read it, then review it. Writers eat reviews for breakfast; they keep us alive, haven't you heard? *grins*  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien's. It's all Tolkien's. And I'm not making money from this story. But you know this already.  
  
Where Will Wants Not  
  
"Where will wants not, a way opens, so we say, and so I have found myself. You wish to go wither the Lord of the Mark goes; I see it in your face."  
  
Merry looked up, startled, his hazel eyes meeting the clear grey ones of a young Rider. He shivered, recalling having met this cool glance before. This, then, was the Rider he had seen earlier, smaller and more hopeless than the rest. What was it he was offering? "I do," he replied, his voice trembling.  
  
The Rider nodded. "Then you shall go with me. I will bear you before me, under my cloak, until we are far afield, and this darkness is yet darker. Such good with should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!"  
  
Merry stared, unwilling to believe. He could go? He could ride for with the King and his Riders, not to be left behind to wonder and wait? He could- "Thank you indeed!" he said, unsure how to fully impart his gratitude; yet somehow, he thought, he saw unspoken understanding in the man's eyes. "Thank you sir, though I do not know your name."  
  
"Do you not?" said the Rider softly. "Then call me Dernhelm." *  
  
* * *  
  
"Come now," said Dernhelm briskly. "Do you need to gather your things? We ride soon."  
  
Merry motioned to his pack and cloak. "I wear all I own, and I have no proper armour. I am ill-prepared for this, I fear," he said regretfully.  
  
"You shall have to without armour, then," said the Rider. "We have not the time to hunt for some, nor do I believe we would find any that would fit you." He looked around. "Come! We go to prepare my horse."  
  
Merry was led between lines of Riders, each preparing his horse for the ride ahead of him. Watching them, he realized just how very big everything really was, and that he was just too small to understand. The war, these men who might never see their homes or loved ones again. It was all over his head, too much for him to comprehend at once. He felt suffocated by the feelings of uneasiness and fear that surrounded and filled him; and the hovering darkness seemed to be preparing to smother them at any moment. The fears and hopes of a hobbit seemed unimportant and unnecessary when compared with the bigger picture.  
  
He stopped when Dernhelm did, at the side of a handsome grey stallion who leaned down to nuzzled Dernhelm affectionately. "This, good Meriadoc, is Windfola, my steed. He shall bear us swiftly into battle."  
  
Merry nodded, gazing up at the great horse. "Please, call me Merry."  
  
As he spoke, there was a great clamour of horns, and a shout of, "We ride! Forth Eorlingas!" Riders on all sides mounted, giving their own battle cries as their steeds pawed the ground in anticipation of the great ride.  
  
Dernhelm reached down and took hold of Merry, swinging him up into the saddle. "Well, Merry, it seems we are about to depart. You are certain of your decision?"  
  
"Yes," said Merry simply. "I will not be left behind."  
  
Dernhelm gazed up at him with his clear grey eyes. Then he mounted behind Merry, giving Windfola a light kick that sent the horse trotting to join the mass of Riders. "I did not suggest that you should be."  
  
* Another disclaimer. All conversation up to this point is straight from Tolkien, with some inserted stuff from me. 


	2. Conversations

Author's Note: I would like to thank my one and only reviewer, Kate Fairbairn. Heh. C'mon people, if my story sucks, at least tell me why so I can improve! Anywho, here's chapter two.  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien's. It's all Tolkien's. And I'm not making money from this story. But you know this already.  
  
Chapter Two: Conversations  
  
The company rode steadily until nightfall, never lessening their pace. Merry was jostled about on Windfola, for though the horse had a smooth stride, the hobbit was unused to riding anything larger than a pony. He spent much of his time leaning against the horse's neck, clinging tightly to his mane so as not to be knocked off. Dernhelm occasionally let go of the reins with one hand to steady his companion, but mostly Merry was left to keep himself on the horse. All in all, it made for a tiring and rather miserable ride.  
  
When finally the horses stopped, Merry very nearly rolled out of the saddle onto the ground, and he would have, had Dernhelm not caught him and set him on his feet. He grinned up at the Rider, feeling both grateful and shamefaced at once. Dernhelm did not speak, only motioned for Merry to follow him.  
  
Merry walked closely behind him, looking around at the rest of the Riders as they set up camp and walked about. Many stood about talking in groups, though laughter was scarce. Most seemed to be contemplating what lay ahead, and looking anxiously at the sky, which had remained dark and heavy throughout the day. Curiously enough, none of the men seemed to look twice at Merry. He doubted it was the elven cloak's doing, for though it did often hide him from view, many of these men passed only a few feet from him, and some even met his glance briefly. He could not make head nor tails of it; his only thought was that perhaps Dernhelm has said something to them.  
  
"Though that seems unlikely," he murmured to himself. Dernhelm said little or nothing to anyone they passed, and he had said nothing to Merry since their departure earlier that day. This did little to cheer Merry, who was used to the ever-spirited Pippin. He frowned, wondering what his cousin was up to, over in Gondor. Probably causing mischief, knowing him, though he had seemed to mature a great deal in recent weeks. Merry felt his stomach tighten in worry and loneliness. He hoped Pippin had enough sense to keep out of the way of the fighting, particularly now that he did not have Merry to watch out for him. One of them, at least, ought to remain safe.  
  
Upon finding a secluded patch of ground away from the bedrolls of the others Riders, Dernhelm stopped and began to unpack his bag. Merry did likewise, unrolling his bedroll and sitting upon it wrapped in a grey blanket. He certainly felt useless.  
  
Dernhelm pulled out a handful of waybread and dried meat and handed it to Merry, who received it gratefully. He had eaten nothing all day, and was absolutely famished, recalling the six meals of a Shire day with longing. As Merry chewed on the meat, Dernhelm sat down on his own bedroll and pulled out a handful of food for himself.  
  
There was no sound between the two of them aside from their chewing. Merry watched the man, feeling extremely uncomfortable. He was used to cheerful conversations over food, not silent chewing and swallowing. Five long minutes passed, and still the Rider said nothing. He hadn't even met Merry's gaze! This was just too much.  
  
Merry coughed to get Dernhelm's attention. "If we are going to be eating together, might we have a bit of conversation? Where I am from, mealtime is a time for conversing and storytelling." The Rider looked at him with his grey eyes for a moment, and Merry tried not to squirm uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze. Finally, he gave a small smile.  
  
"What would you like to speak of, then?" His voice sounded strange, a bit different than it had earlier, but as he gave a short cough Merry realized that it was because he simply had not used it all day.  
  
He thought for a second. In the Shire, one never had to come up with a conversation topic; there always seemed to be one lying around that one might pick up and put into use. "Tell me about your life, as a Rider. It must be exciting, at the least."  
  
Dernhelm did not answer, and for a moment of frustration Merry though he had either not heard him or decided against talking after all. Just as he was about to repeat himself, the Rider said softly, "My life is not a happy tale, Merry, and I do not think we need anymore unhappiness at the moment." His voice, Merry noted almost unconsciously, sounded more normal now, an almost imperceptible change. "Perhaps you might tell me about yourself, and your homeland. I have heard it is a wonderful place."  
  
Merry, surprised at the response he had gotten, did not answer immediately. Then he started to grin. "Yes, it is indeed. The Shire is beautiful, in its way-not like the Elven cities are beautiful, mind you, or even your king's Golden Hall, but beautiful all the same." He went on to describe the green rolling hills of the Shire, with its little houses and hobbit holes, warming to the subject as he went on. He paid special attention to his own home on the banks of the Brandywine, noting with pride that Brandybucks such as himself were among the few hobbits who could swim. Speaking of his home brought up the subject of his family, which invariably brought him to Pippin. He thought he detected a hint of a smile on Dernhelm's face as he told of the time he and his cousin had stolen three baskets of blueberries from Mrs. Proudfoot-and then eaten them all in one sitting. They had had terrible stomachaches the following morning, as well as sore backsides once Mrs. Proudfoot had caught up with them.  
  
Of course, there was no way to tell Dernhelm of Pippin without bringing up another hobbit dear to him-Estella Bolger, a young lass who had often accompanied him on missions of mischief. She had matured a great deal in the year prior to Merry's departure, and he had grown extremely close to her. He lovingly described her brown curls and spunky attitude, his voice growing softer and sadder as he went along. He had not had the chance to tell Estella he was leaving, nor had he dared. Though she was a trustworthy lass, he did not want anyone to know who did not absolutely need to. He had, however, taken Fatty aside before he had left and asked him to assure her that he would return to her safely. All the same, that was no substitute for a proper good-bye.  
  
He had not realized that he had stopped speaking until Dernhelm spoke. "It sounds like you truly care for the hobbit-lass you speak of," he said softly. "You must be very happy to have one such as her."  
  
Merry smiled. "Yes, yes I am." He missed her dreadfully, almost as much as he did Pippin. He looked up at Dernhelm, who was now staring off into the distance. He wanted to ask him if he had a lass to return to at Edoras, but something told him to remain silent.  
  
Finally, Dernhelm seemed to shake himself, pulling his eyes away from the horizon and back to Merry. "Well, Merry, you must be tired from the day's ride. I suggest we both try to get some sleep. We will likely rise early tomorrow, and ride though most of the day." He then stretched and lay down on his bedroll, facing away from Merry.  
  
Merry sighed, remembering suddenly how tired and sore he was. He lay down, pulling the scratchy grey blanket up to his chin, and closed his eyes, trying not to think of the day ahead of him. 


End file.
